


the soul of wit

by Lysical



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Drabble Collection, Gen, One Shot Collection, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2019-03-04 14:29:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13366677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lysical/pseuds/Lysical
Summary: Therefore, since brevity is the soul of wit,And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes,I will be brief.--Gen drabbles, ficlets and prompt fills that are too small for an individual work.





	1. Jason, Damian, Prompt: You’re gonna make it, just stay awake.

**Author's Note:**

> Those who follow me on tumblr may have seen many of these, as I'm finally pulling them into AO3 into a single work. 
> 
> Each chapter is an individual ficlet, unrelated to the others aside from general continuity consistency.

“You’re gonna make it, just stay awake.” 

Damian gave a quiet huff. “Of course I’m going to make it. I’m no weakling. Not like Richard.” 

Their older brother had given up and admitted defeat hours ago, falling asleep on the floor in front of the television, one hand thrown over his eyes. Jason had abandoned his seat on the couch to sit at the foot of it, feet propped up on Richard’s stomach. Damian suspected that the second the challenge was done he’d kick their older brother awake to lord victory over him. 

“Boys, have you seen—” Damian glanced over to see Father in the doorway, staring at the television with a puzzled frown. “Weren’t you watching this yesterday? Have either of you slept yet?” 

“No,” Jason replied, pausing the movie because even a moment’s interruption would ruin everything. “That was a different movie.” 

Father looked extremely skeptical. 

“We’re watching a series,” Damian said, taking pity on him because Jason certainly wouldn’t. 

Father blinked, glancing from the two of them to the television. “The Lord of the Rings?” 

Jason nodded. “The extended editions. Plus the Hobbit. Each movie twice, once with commentary and once without.” His voice was a bit hoarse from all the talking they'd done to keep each other awake. 

“Why?” Father asked, with a hesitance that came from suspecting one wrong word might make Jason blow up at him. Damian understood; this was the longest Jason had maintained a good mood in Father’s presence in recent memory.

“Because honor,” Jason replied, and then turned away and waved a dismissive hand. “You’re too old to understand. Now leave us in peace, this is the last one and then I can finally leave this place and crash.” 

“Crash here,” Father said. “You have a room and it’s dangerous to drive on no sleep.” 

“Does your hypocrisy know no bounds?” Jason asked, but he sounded remarkably cheerful. Damian suspected the combination of sleep deprivation and hideous boredom was getting to him. 

Father grunted and shook his head, leaving the room. Damian was not surprised when he returned a few seconds later. “Boys? Why is Tim duck-taped to the ceiling?” 

Damian looked up at where Drake was, indeed, taped to the ceiling, fast asleep. For added stability some rope was strung between the den's exposed rafters, turning decorative architecture into a useful 'brother container', as Jason had termed it. “He lost his honor, Father.” 

“He’s fine,” Jason said, slumping down and scowling at Father. “He’s even got a pillow. What more do you want?” 

“We’ll let him down if he asks, Father,” Damian said. “But as you can see, he’s quite comfortable there.” 

Father opened his mouth, thought for a few moments, and closed it again. Apparently Drake wishing to be taped to the ceiling to sleep comfortably was not outside the realm of possibility. “Well, I’m glad you’re all…getting along. Where’s Duke? Shoved in the chimney?” 

“No, he went to bed like a normal person because he has school,” Jason muttered. “You’d think you’d have more than a passing notion of what the kids you take in were doing with their lives, wouldn’t you?” 

Father sighed. “Jason, it’s Sunday.” 

“It is?” Jason scowled. “He lied to us. Damian, make a note. He’s next on the list.” 

Father coughed into his hand, before shoving away from the doorway and turning to leave again. “Enjoy your movie, boys.” 

“When we shove him in the chimney,” Damian said to Jason, once Father was gone, “we can tell him it was Father’s idea.” 

Jason cackled.


	2. Damian, Dick, Prompt: Get out and don’t come back

“Damian, come on!” 

“No,” Damian replied, turning his back on Richard and crossing his arms. “Get out and don’t come back.” 

Hands touched his shoulders, but Damian shrugged them off and jumped away, scowling back at Richard and ignoring his pleading expression. “Don’t look at me like that, I’m no fool. I know you’re on Drake’s side!” 

“I’m not on anyone’s side,” Richard replied, putting his hands up in an insufferably placating manner. “I want the both of you to call this whole thing off and stop acting like children.” 

“Newsflash, Grayson, we are children!” Damian tried to push Richard out of the room but his older brother dug his heels in. “Drake’s childishness reflects badly upon him as he’s the older of the two of us, but how he chooses to conduct himself is not my business. Now get out and go be reasonable somewhere else!”  

Richard’s lips were twitching, and of course he found the whole thing funny. “Damian…don’t you think you’re taking this whole thing a little too far?” 

“No,” Damian replied. “No, I’m not. Stop trying to speak for Drake and mediate. He knows what he did and if he was really sorry he’d come and apologize to my face. I’ve done nothing wrong in this entire debacle and so it’s time I struck back.” 

“You threw a batarang at his head, Damian,” Richard said, in that excessively reasonable tone that Damian hated. 

“So?” Damian gave one last push and Richard sighed and let himself be shoved out of the room. Damian slammed the door closed in his face. “Drake can dodge just as well as the rest of us!” 

“We don’t throw batarang at family, Damian.” 

“Speak for yourself!” Damian shouted, kicking the door for good measure. “This is because I was raised an assassin, isn’t it?” 

Richard sighed, and Damian heard his head thunk against the door. “It really isn’t, Damian.” 

“He dealt me a mortal insult and I don’t see why you’re pretending there are two sides to this debate,” Damian said, sitting on his bed and eying the door and the window, lest Richard decide to be sneaky. “There is my side, and then there’s the wrong side, and by attempting to appease both of us you have given Drake exactly what he wants.” 

“Damian—” 

“—And another thing!” Damian scowled at the door once more. “Why are you here, attempting to convince me? If you were a true neutral party you would be attempting to convince him as well.” 

“I can’t be in two places at once,” Richard replied. “And I thought you’d—” 

“—You thought I’d bend to your will, I see how it is. How dare you try and manipulate me with our partnership. I thought it meant more to you than to be used as a bargaining chip for Drake at the first available opportunity!” 

“Damian, what are you—” There was an ominous pause. Damian stared at the door suspiciously. “Damian. You’re distracting me.” 

“No I’m not,” Damian replied, grimacing. He thought he’d had at least another five to ten minutes of arguments left. 

“You are,” Richard replied. “And if you’re being the distraction, that means—” 

Somewhere in the house, there was a scream. 

Richard swung the door open and gave him a narrow-eyed look. “You called Jason, didn’t you?” 

“Richard, our partnership was the greatest on the streets of Gotham, I assure you.” Damian got off the bed and made for the window and a quick escape out of the manor. “But I took to heart your point that I can grow from experience with other partners, and so I feel that in matters such as these, there’s another older brother more suited to the task.” 

There was a crash and then Drake’s voice, ringing loud and clear through the manor: “Jason, get back here!” 

“At least this way you won’t be caught in the middle of our spats,” Damian said, shrugging and crawling out the window and making for the designated meeting point for Stage Two of the operation. 

Richard’s long-suffering expression was one he would treasure. 

Teach him to try and be ‘impartial’.


	3. Dick, Jason, Prompt: Let go

“Let go.” 

The arms around him tightened instead, and he could feel Dick shaking his head, nose brushing the back of his head. “No can do, little wing. We have a lot of birthdays to make up for.” 

“I hate birthdays,” Jason said, trying to get an arm free to elbow Dick in the the side. “And all of you as well.” 

“But we love you,” Dick said, and this time the squeeze was a subtle threat, Jason knew it. “Alfred went to all the effort of getting you here and there’s like three cakes and we have an excellent evening lined up of movies and bonding. You can’t escape, just give in.” 

“This is torture,” Jason said. “If you think I won’t turn around and beat your ass for this you’re wrong.” 

“You’d even have a chance if Cass weren’t here,” Dick replied, laughing. “But big brother and big sister together are more than a match for you, Jason. Give it up already, we’re celebrating your birthday whether you like it or not.” 

On Jason’s other side, Cass nodded, smirking at him wickedly and squeezing his hand. 

Even Damian was watching with amusement. He’d probably join them if Jason tried to escape, and Jason had no chance with the rest of them. He was pretty sure he’d seen Steph doing something to his motorbike that looked like a trap. 

“Fine.” He went limp, surrendering to the grip. Dick’s arms relaxed but didn’t retreat, going from a hold to something like a hug. “I’m going to get you all back for this, just wait.” 

“Looking forward to it,” Dick replied. 

“Great,” Jason said, and then shoved himself against the couch, toppling the whole thing over backwards, enjoying the way both Dick and Cass flailed. Cass might’ve seen it coming but she’d not been able to break his grip in time. They both released him and Jason sprung to his feet, dashing out of the living room and hearing the loud footsteps that meant the rest of them were after him. “You’ll never take me alive, you freaks!” 

“No death jokes on your birthday!” Dick shouted, breathless with laughter. “Get him!”


	4. Tim, Jason, Prompt: I regret it all

“I regret it all,” Tim said, the moment it was over. 

“Do you?” Bruce asked, voice mild, looking from Tim to Jason—thoroughly unrepentant expression and all, thanks Jason—and then to the wreckage of one of his Murciélagos—they were limited edition, Tim knew, and Bruce loved them a lot—and while Tim’s knowledge of Bruce’s car collection ended there, he’d known enough to guess that the second they’d accidentally keyed the thing in the middle of an argument, they’d already doomed themselves.

Tim’s solution was to live out their final moments before Bruce killed them both by taking it for a joyride. He wasn’t sure how the hell he’d ended up suggesting it, except maybe that Jason had been acting reasonably pleasant and it had lulled him into a false sense of security, but the end result was that Jason had apparently been taught to drive by actual, literal demons of hell—the only explanation Tim could think of for how they’d managed to survive some of the stunts he pulled, and why Tim had thought it was a good idea to turn around and ask for a turn and claim he knew how to drive extremely fast roadsters. 

Tim knew how to drive. Normal cars that went normal speeds. The Batmobile, even, in a pinch. 

But he swore that Jason and his demon driving ways had done something to the Murciélago and then the encouragement being yelled his ear had done the last of it and the end result was—

“I’m really sorry, Bruce.” 

Bruce honestly kind of looked like he might cry, and Tim just did not know what to do with that information.

“I’m not,” Jason said, shrugging his shoulders when Tim gave him a dirty look. “Did you look more or less broken up when I died? Or do only cars rate actual grief?” 

“Oh my God, stop talking,” Tim said, because there was giving Bruce a hard time and actively courting death after crashing one of his favorite cars, and why did Jason always have to go for the low blows? Could he not just chill out, just once in his goddamn life? 

“Tim,” Bruce said, and it appeared he was ignoring Jason entirely which was the wrong move, Bruce, was Tim the only person between the three of them who know how to not be a complete interpersonal mess? Was that not the height of irony? “Sit down and breathe into a paper bag, you’re looking a little white. Jason—” 

Jason raised an eyebrow, and he looked absolutely ready to start a fight even surrounded by gathering media, curious onlookers and the sad wreckage of the car, which had lost the fight with the tree Tim had driven it into. 

“If you think that being legally dead and partially estranged means I can’t ground you, you’re wrong.” Bruce pointed back to the car he’d arrived in. Alfred was standing by the passenger-side door, looking disapproving and extremely British. “Get in the damn car.”

“Please,” Tim muttered into his hands. “My nerves can’t take this.” 

Jason snorted, but he went towards the car, giving Bruce a large berth that screamed that he was being a defensive jackass because he was just as terrified as Tim was, just hiding it much better. 

“Tim.” 

Tim looked up, wincing at the expression on Bruce’s face. 

“I’m extremely glad that both of you are okay,” Bruce said, which was just getting the obligatory parental concern out of the way before the Doom and Judgment descended. “But I have security cameras in the garage, so I also know that the entire thing was your idea—” sweet Jesus he was done for “—and while Jason is an adult and can make his own decisions, you’re both my sons so I feel it’s necessary to remind you not to be a bad influence on your brother.” 

Jason had just been about to get in the back of the car, but slammed the door closed instead, storming back over. “You fucking WHAT?” 

Tim wasn’t sure whether he wanted to laugh or cry.


	5. Cass, Jason, Prompt: You know damn well why things are the way they are

“You know damn well why things are the way they are.” 

Cass scoffed, tapping Jason on the nose. He jerked his head back and kept his arms stubbornly folded. She frowned at him. “Little brother. Language.” 

“First of all, I am not the little brother,” Jason replied. “And I saw you signing worse things behind Bruce’s back on patrol so don’t even start with me.” 

“Play the game,” Cass said, choosing to avoid his accusations because he was right but that meant nothing. He was the little brother and that meant Cass could chide him for bad language whether or not it was hypocritical. She’d learned that much from Dick. 

“I’m not playing the game, you just want to skip cutscenes. Play it yourself.” 

“No. It’s bonding.” 

“I don’t have to listen to you.” Jason turned away, rolling over on the couch and sulking. Cass knew he was the little brother. He sulked too much to not be the little brother. 

“You have to listen to me,” Cass said, poking him in the side. “Little brother.” 

“You have no proof of that.” Jason slapped at her hand. “Until I see documented proof that you were born before I was, it doesn’t count.” 

Cass huffed. The timeline of Jason’s death, resurrection and the Pit meant that nearly everyone considered him younger than his age on paper anyway, Cass had heard them talking about it and seen Bruce’s files. No one wanted to argue with Jason about that though, because he was sensitive about his death and everything surrounding it. 

Cass was sure it was just because he didn’t want to admit he was the little brother. 

Fine. She would show him. There would be proof, and then he would have to admit it and Cass would Win. 

And then they could finally go back to bonding and playing games. 

“Fine, I will get proof,” Cass said, despite her misgivings of any documentation existing in the first place. “But you will be a good little brother when I prove it.” 

Jason grumbled. “I’ve never been a good little brother in my life, why would I start for you?” 

Cass kissed him on the forehead and then got to her feet. 

She had a Mission. 

Operation: Prove Little Brother Wrong was a-go.


	6. Dick, Jason, Prompt: You made your choice

“I’m not staying here.” 

It was maybe the third time Jason had said it, but he got the feeling the words weren’t sinking in for Bruce and Alfred. They were talking around his protests and he could practically see the looks they were sharing, like maybe if they waited long enough he’d forget, fall asleep or the pain meds would kick in and they could put him safely in his room.

They'd pulled similar shit when he was Robin and didn’t want to leave the Cave early on school nights. 

It had been a goddamn long time since he was Robin. 

It wasn’t like his foot was that broken anyway.

Jason examined it critically from his place on one of the beds in the medbay. It was minimally broken. Barely fractured. Not even one of the important bones. He could still hobble along on it and everything. He’d said as much to Bruce but it hadn’t gone down very well at all. Whatever sense of humor Bruce had possessed when Jason had been Robin seemed to have shriveled up and died in the time since. Now, Batman was at the computer. He hadn’t even twitched when Jason spoke.

Scowling, Jason shoved himself up and off the bed, steadying himself with one hand on the railing. 

“Whoa, hold on there, little wing.” 

Jason closed his eyes and clenched his jaw his free arm was taken and pulled across Dick’s shoulders, his older brother taking most of his weight. “What the hell are you doing here?” 

“Taking you home,” Dick said, grinning. “I’m going to stay with you, since you decided not to stay at the manor.” 

Jason tensed up, looking between Dick and Bruce, still sitting at the damn computer and ignoring him. “Wait, what?” 

“Come on.” Dick nudged him along gently. “I’ve already picked out some movies for us to watch.” 

“I do not need supervision.” What kind of nightmarish hellscape was this. “It’s just my damn foot.” 

Dick snorted. “You have a concussion as well, forgot about that?” 

“It’s borderline,” Jason replied. “Doesn’t count.”

“Right, like how your foot is only ‘a little bit’ broken?” Dick shook his head. “Sorry, kid. Too late for take backs. You made your choice and now you get to go home to your apartment and let me dote on you for a night.” 

As he was pulled away, Jason turned to the back of Bruce’s head one last glare. “I’m going to get you back for this, Bruce. You better sleep with your damn eyes open!” 

“Hn.” Bruce still didn’t turn away from the computer. “I always do.” 

Jason made a wordless noise of rage. 

Beside him, Dick laughed. “I don’t know why you’re shocked, Jay. You came by your pettiness honestly, after all.”


	7. Kyle, Hal, Prompt: I think I'm in trouble

It was about halfway through the case that Kyle started thinking up excuses. Working with Jason was familiar in a surprisingly easy way, and the presence of Artemis only made the feeling of deja vu stronger, despite the noticeable differences between her and Donna. Bizarro was kind of a new experience, but Kyle had encountered far stranger things in his time than a clone of Superman who insisted on calling him ‘White Light’. 

Kyle had been on a number of teams, from the Titans to the Justice League and then, eventually, the Corps. He mostly flew solo these days, but it was nice to be on a team again. Even one that enjoyed mass property damage and international incidents perhaps a little too much. 

Thus the excuses. 

He was a little surprised it took five warehouses burned to the ground before someone caught up with them. He was exceedingly surprised by  _who_ caught up with them. 

“I can’t believe this,” Jason said. He’d lost his helmet in the mess that had been the third place they’d lit up. He scowled at the approaching figure of Batman. 

Kyle was preoccupied with the person floating _behind_ Batman. Hal Jordan did not look pleased at all. “I think I’m in trouble.” 

Jason snorted. “Not sure, are you?” 

Hal stopped, jerking his chin in a gesture Kyle understood to mean ‘follow or else’, and then he ascended away into the sky. 

“I’ll get back to you on that.” Kyle glanced at the shadowy figure of Batman and gave Jason a weak smile. “Good luck.” 

“I don’t need luck.” Jason took a deep breath. “I’m always ready to fight Batman.” 

Hal was talking to the ring when Kyle reached him. Kyle tuned out the Corps talk and waited for whatever judgment descended upon him. It couldn’t be that bad, right? It was Hal. 

“Have fun?” Hal asked, nodding to the flaming wreckage in the distance. 

“A little.” Kyle scratched the back of his head. “Is there a problem? Because I’m not exactly a member of the Corps anymore so…” 

Most of his career as a Lantern had been outside the Corps, either because they didn’t exist or Kyle no longer qualified. It meant that he could tell any of those little blue dickheads to go to hell whenever he felt like it.

Not that he ever had. 

But he could. If he wanted. 

“Kyle, what the hell happened in Sector 1543?” Hal asked, with a tinge of exasperation that Kyle assumed meant he did not want to be the one here, asking. 

“Sector what?” Kyle bit his lip and shrugged. “I’ve never been there.” 

Hal stared at him for a moment. “Kid, you’re a terrible liar.” 

“Yeah,” Kyle replied, resigned. “My mother used to tell me that a lot.” 

“Well,” Hal said, sighing and looking down at his ring. “I guess if it’ll help jog your memory I can read out the list of deeds from the planet that so lovingly crafted a statue of worship to the almighty ‘Hamtaro’.” 

Kyle muffled a laugh against his hand. “Almighty who?” 

Hal cracked a smile, shaking his head. “I am really not the right person to be reading you the riot act, am I? I could call John if you want.” 

Kyle scratched the back of his head. “I mean…technically none of you can say anything. I’m not a Green Lantern.” 

Hal raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, that’s true. I guess that means that for your latest mess, which is conveniently enough on Earth, we’ll just have the Justice League handle you, White Lantern. Isn’t it lucky that Batman is right here?” 

Down below, Kyle could hear Jason shouting. 

He grimaced. “Please don’t.”


End file.
